Accidents Happen (Part 2)
Dec. 3rd, 2009 12:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceTitle: Accidents Happen (Part 2)
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Prowl. Jazz. Ensemble.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Ratchet hands over his report to Prowl and leaves the tactician alone with Jazz's lifeless form as soon as he can. Wheeljack's sheepish request for help is Primus sent, and Ratchet won't yell at the engineer for it this time. Probably.
Maybe he's running away, but he doesn't want to go back while Prowl is still there, because (a body torn in half a visor going dark a life fading with nothing he can do but watch and curse Megatron and hate himself for not being omnipotent) Ratchet barely managed to keep to the distant, formal language required of such documentation while writing the damn thing and he doesn't think he can bear to see the SIC read it with the same kind of detachment.
He hears the mech leave the room not a few moments later, and re-enters to find the datapad lying on the berth next to the saboteur's motionless form, definitely unread because not even Prowl can read that quickly, and wonders if the doorwinged mech is well because it's not like the SIC to leave anything undone.
Ratchet decides to let the tactician have this one evening of peace (that he's in no state of mind to face the mech has nothing to do with it, really) and swears that if Prowl is still listless later, he'll have the chevroned mech in the med bay being scanned to the last microchip. Optimus can have his Second in Charge back tomorrow, after the tactician has managed to get some rest.
= = =
He isn’t sure when the other mech stopped being convenient and started being essential. But he does know, down to the very last astrosecond, when he managed to acknowledge that that change had occurred, because he’s counted every one between the one when they parted and the one when they met again (two hundred and thirty vorns, five orns, ten cycles, nineteen breems and eighty six astroseconds, by the by).
= = =
Prowl is not the sort of mech to spout sweet nothings and endearments, which makes the tactician’s quiet statement that the saboteur is necessary (like energon and metal and his own spark) all the more important because Jazz knows Prowl means it as fact.
= = =
The sound of the door opening, and then closing, rouses them. The groundshaking crash that follows starts them both wide awake, but it’s the cacophony after that that has Jazz frowning grumpily at the door as Prowl sighs and tries to leave to go see what it is.
Jazz of course stops him, muttering that it’s just Ratchet cackling. When the SIC asks how the saboteur knows, Jazz asks him just which one of them spent the last hundred vorns on the same squad with the medic and then buries his helm against Prowl’s side in a vain attempt to block out the sound.
But Prowl is a tactician, and he eventually manages to free himself (he can’t get Ratchet to shut up if he doesn’t leave the berth) and get to the door, opening it to find his Prime sprawled out on the ground, optics dark and expression discombobulated, and Ratchet is grinning like something Prowl would not want to meet in a dark place (or a lit one, or any sort of place at all, really).
Ironhide is there, raising an optic ridge at the medic, but he obliges the chartreuse mech’s request for assistance in getting their disabled Prime to the med bay, cycling air in a muchly put upon manner as he lifts a flame patterned leg to begin the dragging process.
When Jazz pops up beside Prowl (having gotten bored with waiting for the tactician to report his findings) to see what exactly is taking place in the corridor, Ironhide drops Optimus’s limb, right onto his own foot.
Sideswipe, having been drawn by the CMO’s laughter (and not wanting to pass up a chance to appreciate something that has entertained the mech so much and for once is not his fault), skids around the corner at a run, boggling at the offline Prime and the hopping Ironhide and the medic who is about to fry a circuit with hilarity.
Then Sideswipe spots Jazz, visor bright with amusement and life. He forgets all about the other three mechs, and can’t help the joyful smile that stretches across his faceplates. When the saboteur grins back and leans into a certain SIC, Sideswipe also forgets to stop, but the wall helps him out with that undertaking most willingly.
Ratchet, understandably, is laughing even harder.
The chevroned mech shakes his head and pulls Jazz back inside. They’ll come out when the world is normal again. Jazz points out that it was never all that normal in the first place. That means they get to stay in their room longer, is the other mech’s reply.
Jazz doesn’t argue any further.
= = =
Prowl picks up the datapad Ratchet had handed him days earlier, the same one he'd left behind and ignored because he couldn't stand to find out how badly Jazz was injured (hurt damaged in pain torn in half dying) or how the others tried and tried but couldn't do anything more.
The medic watches him carefully, spark aching for this mech because if writing the words had been agony for him, now that he knows what he knows (and regrets that he ever thought the SIC would be unaffected) he wonders how much worse it is for Prowl to have to read them.
= = =
Jazz slips into the room after Prowl has been too quiet for too long. Ratchet passes him in the doorway, the saboteur barely reacts but to shoot the departing medic a grateful look before he goes to block the report from Prowl's sight, taking its place under the mech's attention instead.
Prowl's hands drift up to rest against plating that not too long ago, at least by how their kind reckon these things, was rent asunder. The weld marks are still there, the tactician can feel them, faint and raised underneath his fingertips. Jazz's intakes speed up at the careful touches, the repairs are sensitive and Prowl's fingers stop, resting protectively over the saboteur's middle as he pulls the mech closer.
The tactician glances at the datapad again, and the visored mech steals a peek at the report. Prowl tries to prevent him from doing so, but Jazz is more than capable of being sneaky about such things. What he reads is not surprising. The saboteur’s spark had gone out during the hectic rush to save him, only to relight a few days later.
The doorwinged mech is puzzled by his non-reaction, and Jazz shrugs. He knows what happened. His spark was the one that wandered off to the Matrix and back again, after all. Prowl shakes his head because it sounds so illogical. Why would anyone leave the Well of All Sparks once they’d returned?
The silver mech strokes the chevroned bot’s cheek tenderly in reply. Prowl already knows why he came back. The tactician needs him too much for Jazz to stay away, even if the saboteur had a little trouble getting to Prowl on time.
The SIC is quiet, and he presses his helm to Jazz’s, overcome by the thought that the Ops mech would leave Primus to wait for someone who might never turn up. The smile Jazz gives him is knowing, and the visored mech feels it's only fair that he says it out loud now, since Prowl had to the last time.
He knew that Prowl would find him, because Prowl knows just how much the saboteur needs the tactician too, and Prowl has never failed Jazz before.
= = =
The tactician wonders if this counts as failing his lover, even as he apologises for missing their 'movie date' (Ratchet had been most insistent on keeping him in for observation after his processor crash). Jazz smiles and calls him a silly mech because it's not Prowl's fault and Jazz has already taken care of the ones whose fault it is.
Prowl doesn't ask any more questions, because sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
= = =
Ironhide watches the two mechs from across the room, wondering how he'd managed to overlook their relationship. He comforts himself with the knowledge that apparently neither head tactician nor head of Ops had realised it either, and it was their relationship in the first place.
The fact that most of the Autobots hadn’t figured the two out either also helps. Ironhide has fond memories of watching Blaster accompanying Jazz to the Ops mech’s room to retrieve a music recording. The tapedeck’s reaction when he realised that Jazz’s quarters are also Prowl’s quarters had been most entertaining.
'Verse: 2007 Transformers
Characters: Prowl. Jazz. Ensemble.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Ratchet hands over his report to Prowl and leaves the tactician alone with Jazz's lifeless form as soon as he can. Wheeljack's sheepish request for help is Primus sent, and Ratchet won't yell at the engineer for it this time. Probably.
Maybe he's running away, but he doesn't want to go back while Prowl is still there, because (a body torn in half a visor going dark a life fading with nothing he can do but watch and curse Megatron and hate himself for not being omnipotent) Ratchet barely managed to keep to the distant, formal language required of such documentation while writing the damn thing and he doesn't think he can bear to see the SIC read it with the same kind of detachment.
He hears the mech leave the room not a few moments later, and re-enters to find the datapad lying on the berth next to the saboteur's motionless form, definitely unread because not even Prowl can read that quickly, and wonders if the doorwinged mech is well because it's not like the SIC to leave anything undone.
Ratchet decides to let the tactician have this one evening of peace (that he's in no state of mind to face the mech has nothing to do with it, really) and swears that if Prowl is still listless later, he'll have the chevroned mech in the med bay being scanned to the last microchip. Optimus can have his Second in Charge back tomorrow, after the tactician has managed to get some rest.
= = =
He isn’t sure when the other mech stopped being convenient and started being essential. But he does know, down to the very last astrosecond, when he managed to acknowledge that that change had occurred, because he’s counted every one between the one when they parted and the one when they met again (two hundred and thirty vorns, five orns, ten cycles, nineteen breems and eighty six astroseconds, by the by).
= = =
Prowl is not the sort of mech to spout sweet nothings and endearments, which makes the tactician’s quiet statement that the saboteur is necessary (like energon and metal and his own spark) all the more important because Jazz knows Prowl means it as fact.
= = =
The sound of the door opening, and then closing, rouses them. The groundshaking crash that follows starts them both wide awake, but it’s the cacophony after that that has Jazz frowning grumpily at the door as Prowl sighs and tries to leave to go see what it is.
Jazz of course stops him, muttering that it’s just Ratchet cackling. When the SIC asks how the saboteur knows, Jazz asks him just which one of them spent the last hundred vorns on the same squad with the medic and then buries his helm against Prowl’s side in a vain attempt to block out the sound.
But Prowl is a tactician, and he eventually manages to free himself (he can’t get Ratchet to shut up if he doesn’t leave the berth) and get to the door, opening it to find his Prime sprawled out on the ground, optics dark and expression discombobulated, and Ratchet is grinning like something Prowl would not want to meet in a dark place (or a lit one, or any sort of place at all, really).
Ironhide is there, raising an optic ridge at the medic, but he obliges the chartreuse mech’s request for assistance in getting their disabled Prime to the med bay, cycling air in a muchly put upon manner as he lifts a flame patterned leg to begin the dragging process.
When Jazz pops up beside Prowl (having gotten bored with waiting for the tactician to report his findings) to see what exactly is taking place in the corridor, Ironhide drops Optimus’s limb, right onto his own foot.
Sideswipe, having been drawn by the CMO’s laughter (and not wanting to pass up a chance to appreciate something that has entertained the mech so much and for once is not his fault), skids around the corner at a run, boggling at the offline Prime and the hopping Ironhide and the medic who is about to fry a circuit with hilarity.
Then Sideswipe spots Jazz, visor bright with amusement and life. He forgets all about the other three mechs, and can’t help the joyful smile that stretches across his faceplates. When the saboteur grins back and leans into a certain SIC, Sideswipe also forgets to stop, but the wall helps him out with that undertaking most willingly.
Ratchet, understandably, is laughing even harder.
The chevroned mech shakes his head and pulls Jazz back inside. They’ll come out when the world is normal again. Jazz points out that it was never all that normal in the first place. That means they get to stay in their room longer, is the other mech’s reply.
Jazz doesn’t argue any further.
= = =
Prowl picks up the datapad Ratchet had handed him days earlier, the same one he'd left behind and ignored because he couldn't stand to find out how badly Jazz was injured (hurt damaged in pain torn in half dying) or how the others tried and tried but couldn't do anything more.
The medic watches him carefully, spark aching for this mech because if writing the words had been agony for him, now that he knows what he knows (and regrets that he ever thought the SIC would be unaffected) he wonders how much worse it is for Prowl to have to read them.
= = =
Jazz slips into the room after Prowl has been too quiet for too long. Ratchet passes him in the doorway, the saboteur barely reacts but to shoot the departing medic a grateful look before he goes to block the report from Prowl's sight, taking its place under the mech's attention instead.
Prowl's hands drift up to rest against plating that not too long ago, at least by how their kind reckon these things, was rent asunder. The weld marks are still there, the tactician can feel them, faint and raised underneath his fingertips. Jazz's intakes speed up at the careful touches, the repairs are sensitive and Prowl's fingers stop, resting protectively over the saboteur's middle as he pulls the mech closer.
The tactician glances at the datapad again, and the visored mech steals a peek at the report. Prowl tries to prevent him from doing so, but Jazz is more than capable of being sneaky about such things. What he reads is not surprising. The saboteur’s spark had gone out during the hectic rush to save him, only to relight a few days later.
The doorwinged mech is puzzled by his non-reaction, and Jazz shrugs. He knows what happened. His spark was the one that wandered off to the Matrix and back again, after all. Prowl shakes his head because it sounds so illogical. Why would anyone leave the Well of All Sparks once they’d returned?
The silver mech strokes the chevroned bot’s cheek tenderly in reply. Prowl already knows why he came back. The tactician needs him too much for Jazz to stay away, even if the saboteur had a little trouble getting to Prowl on time.
The SIC is quiet, and he presses his helm to Jazz’s, overcome by the thought that the Ops mech would leave Primus to wait for someone who might never turn up. The smile Jazz gives him is knowing, and the visored mech feels it's only fair that he says it out loud now, since Prowl had to the last time.
He knew that Prowl would find him, because Prowl knows just how much the saboteur needs the tactician too, and Prowl has never failed Jazz before.
= = =
The tactician wonders if this counts as failing his lover, even as he apologises for missing their 'movie date' (Ratchet had been most insistent on keeping him in for observation after his processor crash). Jazz smiles and calls him a silly mech because it's not Prowl's fault and Jazz has already taken care of the ones whose fault it is.
Prowl doesn't ask any more questions, because sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
= = =
Ironhide watches the two mechs from across the room, wondering how he'd managed to overlook their relationship. He comforts himself with the knowledge that apparently neither head tactician nor head of Ops had realised it either, and it was their relationship in the first place.
The fact that most of the Autobots hadn’t figured the two out either also helps. Ironhide has fond memories of watching Blaster accompanying Jazz to the Ops mech’s room to retrieve a music recording. The tapedeck’s reaction when he realised that Jazz’s quarters are also Prowl’s quarters had been most entertaining.
